Chocolate
by xPockyNoMikox
Summary: OxN Sequel to Vanilla. Don't have to read the first fic to read this. Nagi's been staying with Weiss after running away from Brad, but Schwarz comes to get him.


DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiss Kreuz. If I did, Crawford and Youji would have been blown up a long time ago and Omi and Nagi would be doing a lot more than fighting each other.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get out! My computer's been down for nearly a month… Good thing I had this saved on a disk, because I lost everything else! This is the sequel to "Vanilla" (yay!). Arigato to those who reviewed the first one. You don't have to read the first fic to read this one, though. 

Uh, I don't know where the title came from, other than that it fit as the sequel to "Vanilla". I think that's all I have to say…

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Chocolate

Muffled laughter trickled through the open door, followed by the voices of the four young men who ran the Koneko; the four assassins that posed as normal, if not innocent, citizens. Balines chuckled, his voice low and sultry as he flirted with the female customers. A stern reprimand from Abyssinian elicited a pout from the older man, who murmured one last sweet nothing before bidding the young women goodbye. Bombay and Siberian teased him playfully, serving only to encourage his pretentiousness.

I managed a wry smile. Thus was the company I had chosen –I would not quite say I had been forced– to reside with for the past week. I could not yet call myself welcome; though Siberian and naturally Omi accepted my presence, suspicion still lingered in Abyssinian's amethyst eyes. I had long ago abandoned any hope of making peace with Balines. He considered me a rival, and as long as I remained of some importance to Omi, he would never willingly accept me into his home.

Bending down to admire a bunch of violets, I sighed as I realized they were counterfeit. I didn't like fake flowers- they were merely effigies of true blossoms that failed miserably to recapture any sense of nature's elegance. Though I realized every flower shop carried them, I was surprised to find them here, where Omi lived, and doing so shattered the auspicious –and probably unfounded– image I'd formed of the Weiss headquarters.

I heard someone enter the storeroom and tensed instantly, readying my powers in case they should be needed. Even here, within the warm, relaxed atmosphere of the Koneko, I never felt truly safe; no one ran away from Schwarz and lived. Crawford would come after me sooner or later, and I had no intention of returning with him. I spun around quickly.

Omi smiled knowingly at me and continued forward to wrap his arms around my waist, laying his head on my shoulder. "A little nervous, ne Nagi-chan?" He kissed my cheek and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. "Calm down. Nothing's going to happen to you." Releasing me, he reached past me onto one of the many shelves along the wall, cut the tape on a large box, and selected several packages of colored bows from inside it. He flashed me a smile as he balanced them precariously in his hands. "We're closing after we fill this order. Will you help me lock up?"

I nodded, steadying his burden with a slight flick of my mind. Omi threw once last smile over his shoulder before disappearing back into the shop.

One of the conditions of my remaining here was that I was to help in the Koneko. Since I was no longer enrolled in school –I wouldn't chance Crawford or Schuldig confronting me there– I was free to work during the day. I made no objections, for it ensured at least partial safety and gave me something to occupy myself with; but then, it also meant constant contact with Balines.

As if reading my thoughts, the blonde man appeared in the doorway, frowning down at me from behind his glasses. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

I gazed steadily back at him, concealing my discomfort behind a mask of indifference. I'd learned early that emotions turned into weapons in the hands of your enemies, a lesson that proved quite useful against this particular foe; my impassive stare had always unnerved the eldest member of Weiss. "Aya-san gave me a short break," I replied and smiled inwardly when he jerked his eyes from mine. "I am not yet fully recovered." That much was true, at least. The injuries I'd received at Crawford's hand before my escape were still painful, though not nearly as much as they had been when I had first dragged myself here.

He took a step toward me, braving my gaze once more. "I'm not stupid," he murmured when he was close enough. "And I won't turn a blind eye to your actions like Aya and Ken. Leave Omi alone." He punctuated each word with a step until he was only inches away from me, forcing me to look up at him.

"I haven't done anything," I said quietly.

"Yet," he snarled. "You're a whore. Schwarz' whore. This isn't Schwarz." He brought his hands up on either side of my head, pinning me against the shelves. My head bumped a carton of plastic crosses, my hands brushing the delicate petals of fake lilies and my back pressing against the tip of the scissors Omi had left behind. The temptation to use my powers was great, but I held them back, knowing that I couldn't afford to make Weiss my enemy again. I merely stared up at him, waiting for him to finish. This time, he held my gaze. "Omi's too innocent for you. Stay away from him." His voice was low. "Or else–"

"Or else what, Youji?"

The taller man spun around, his hands falling to his sides though he remained firmly between Omi and me. I saw no evidence of guilt in his features; but then, why should there be? He was merely protecting what he considered to be his from an intruder. What –or who– Omi wanted did not figure into his arrangement. Loyalty was a new emotion to me, and as much as Balines' feelings inconvenienced me, I couldn't help but admire them. None of the other Schwarz members had ever shone such devotion to a single person.

He was right, though. I was no longer innocent, if I had ever been. Omi deserved better, I knew that, but I was selfish. Something new and exciting had begun to bloom between us, and I wanted to explore it fully before I gave it up. It saddened me that I could not return Omi's gift of wonder as he experienced everything for the first time, but that wasn't enough to make me abandon this relationship.

Omi strode toward his fellow assassin, features blank under a mask of calm. Only when he came within touching distance of Balines did he betray any sign of emotion, clenching his hands and glaring sharply at the taller Weiss assassin. I was afraid Omi was going to strike the older man, but, to Omi's credit, he merely shoved past Balines man to grab my wrist and tug me out of the storeroom.

I allowed Omi to pull me forward, keeping my eyes straight ahead, but I could feel Balines' stare, so full of anger and dejection, boring into my back.

Omi led me through the now-darkened shop, shouldering open the door and letting it crash shut behind us. He stood with his back toward me for some time, breathing heavily, before spinning around and setting to work bringing in the outside display. Still silent, he threw all his concentration into his work, lifting the flowerpots off their display stands and carrying them inside. 

I helped, watching him from the corner of my eye. Determination and anger had replaced the usual cheerfulness that illuminated his features; I wanted to assure him that he needn't worry about me, but I couldn't find the words. I'd never had to comfort someone before; I'd never had anyone worry about me before, for that matter. Fortunately –or _un_fortunately– words weren't necessary.

"Doushitano, little Weiss kitten?"

We both spun around at the same time. Instinct forced me between Omi and Schuldig, my arms spread slightly to cover more of him. My actions surprised me, for I had moved without thinking; the need to protect someone was new to me. A dart appeared in each of Omi's hands as he stepped around me to stand at my side, glaring at the orange-haired man.

Schuldig smirked. "Protective of him, are you?" the German purred. "First from Balines, now me. However, your little claws aren't going to be enough against me, kitty."

I had known they would come for me sooner or later. I was grateful that it had taken them this long; the majority of my wounds were almost healed. Despite my fear for his safety, Omi's presence was reassuring. I knew Schuldig was not alone, and I could never take all three of my former comrades on my own.

"Nagi, get inside," Omi hissed, adjusting his grip on his weapons. "Ima."

I remained where I was, never taking my eyes off Schuldig. I would not leave Omi on his own against Schwarz, even with the help of the other four Weiss members. Omi didn't press me; instead, he flicked his wrist, sending one of his darts soaring toward the German.

The older man dodged it easily, flipping over it to land a few feet in front of us. "Now, now, kitten," he purred, sauntering over to us. "This isn't the place to be fighting. What if you hit an innocent?"

Cursing, Omi halted his attack in mid-throw, grabbing me with his free hand and heading back toward the shop. His eyes darted around, searching for possible witnesses, but the darkening street was empty. His grip on my wrist tightened possessively as he reached out to open the door.

Our speed was no match for the German's. He glided in front of the door, effectively blocking our way to relative safety. At least, if we could get inside, we would have the support of the other Weiss members, and Schwarz would be forced to enter through either the front or back door. Outside, we were vulnerable.

Schuldig drew his gun and aimed it at Omi's chest in one smooth motion. This close, it would be impossible to dodge a bullet, and from the way Omi's muscles tensed, he knew that, also. Schuldig smiled. "I, on the other hand, am not at all averse to fighting in public." His finger tightened on the trigger. "But I will make an exception this time. Leave. Go back to your flowers and fawning tabby cat, and Nagikins and I will simply disappear into the darkness."

I stepped closer to Omi, surprising myself again as I pressed against his back as if seeking assurance that he wasn't going to leave. My body moved of its own accord, not giving my mind time to register the action. I didn't understand it; but then, with Schuldig near, the movement may not have been mine at all. I couldn't be sure.

"Iie," Omi growled, brushing my hand with his own. He glanced behind Schuldig at the glass door, and I followed his gaze to see Siberian's face disappear back into the darkness of the shop. At least we wouldn't have to face Schwarz alone now.

The air around us seemed to hold its breath, and time slowed as Schuldig pulled the trigger. My mind reacted instantly, throwing a barrier up in front of Omi to stop the bullet only scant inches from his chest. The gold shell glimmered for a moment in the light from the street lamps before falling to the ground with a sharp clink.

Time resumed its natural pace, and the sound of Omi's ragged breathing echoed in the night. The silence of the street assaulted my hearing, driving me to my knees. _You earned this, Prodigy,_ Schuldig whispered as he stripped my powers away. _I've been lonely at night without you. _Never had it been this painful, as if half of my mind was suddenly being torn away. Everything faded to black, though sounds continued to filter through the roaring in my ears. More voices joined the shouts of Omi and Schuldig; the other Weiss members had finally arrived. Even Balines' sultry tones had joined in the whirlpool of voices.

A high pitched scream split the night: Farfarello. I knew Crawford was here somewhere, also. The fight was even now, since Omi was preoccupied with me. I could feel his arms around my shoulders, could hear him calling me, but I couldn't make out the words. His arms went from my shoulders to my waist, and he tugged me up into a standing position. I allowed him to draw me inside, stumbling and leaning heavily on him.

Some of my senses were returning; Schuldig was too intent on avoiding Balines' lethal wires to concentrate too much on me. Abyssinian and the others had lured Schwarz inside, slipping through the door one by one so that Schwarz was forced to follow if they intended to continue the battle. Weiss had the advantage now; they knew the shop, even in the semi-darkness, and Schwarz didn't.

Omi slid his arms from around me and pushed me in the direction of the basement, placing a small dagger in my hands. I was lucid enough to realize that even within the closed space of the Koneko, the four Weiss members were hopelessly outmatched. Schuldig had abandoned his gun and was fighting Balines and Siberian unarmed. Crawford, never one for hand-to-hand combat, stood in the doorway, gun in hand, as Farfarello engaged both Abyssinian and now Omi. Despite his propensity for quick and easy fights, the combatants were moving too rapidly, and that combined with the gloom made it difficult to aim. Also, a gunshot would draw unwanted attention, and he had never invested in a silencer as Schuldig had.

Metal clashed with metal as Abyssinian's blade met Farfarello's; Omi dashed in, a dart gripped tightly in each hand, only to be driven back by a slash of yet another of the Irishman's knives. Wire glinted in the moonlight, then fell slack as Schuldig jumped neatly over the counter, avoiding Balines' and Siberian's attacks. 

The Weiss members alternated between offensive and defensive, gaining ground that was lost only moments later. Neither side showed a distinct advantage, despite the fact that each fight was two to one. I fought Schuldig's power with all my might, hoping to at least break his concentration somewhat, but I failed at both objectives. Without my telekinesis, I was near helpless. And yet, despite my lack of physical strength and fighting ability, I couldn't simply run and hide while Omi and his comrades were slaughtered.

I tightened my grip on Omi's dagger.

Knives were more Farfarello's forte than my own, but I was not unfamiliar with them. Living with the Irishman put me in close proximity with them, and I had practiced with them on several occasions. Crawford had insisted on it while I was training to refine my telekinesis, saying that I needed at least one skill useful to them.

Steadying myself against the wall, I tried to assess where I could do most damage. Though my first instinct was to help Omi, I knew Schuldig was more of a threat. Farfarello had no personal vendetta against me, no reason to press for my return. If Crawford and Schuldig could be eliminated, Farfarello would be much easier to handle; he fought for the joy of fighting and for the pain he imagined it caused his God. And Crawford, even with his gun, posed little physical threat.

Darkness continued to linger at the edge my vision, but Schuldig's assault on my mind had lessened significantly. Adjusting my grip on the dagger, I braced myself on a nearby display stand and threw the dagger toward the German. The blade soared past Siberian, sinking deep into Schuldig's leg. The orange-haired man blinked in shock at the stream of crimson staining his pants before turning toward me. Laughter glittered in his eyes.

__

That was clever, Nagikins. Very clever. But now, you have no weapon. Dodging Siberian's slashing bugnuks, the German flipped over the counter again, stumbling only slightly, and landed on my side of the room. The darkness threatening to overwhelm me grew stronger as I felt his mental fingers tightening their hold on my mind.

I leaned heavily against the wall, but I refused to sink to the floor before him. I heard Omi call my name, though he was unable to abandon his fight with Farfarello. He and Abyssinian maneuvered around the stands of toys and fake bouquets, leading the Irishman through a game of chase. They never strayed too far from the doorway, effectively pinning Crawford in place; unless the American wanted to chance the wildly slashing blades of the three fighters, he could not advance.

Schuldig loomed over me, smirking. His fingers trailed across my cheek, a sadistic hunger gleaming in his eyes. I jerked away from him only to have his other hand grab my jaw and force me against the wall. I struggled briefly, but was no match for him, especially with my mind in turmoil. But before he could advance any further, Crawford barked his name.

Everyone turned toward the American, and even Farfarello stopped his mad slashing. The corners of his mouth pulled up in a smirk, Crawford looked down at his gun, which was now pointed over a table at Omi. "We've wasted far too much time here. It's time to leave." His gaze flicked over to me. "All of us."

The entire room seemed to freeze, trembling as Crawford's finger closed on the trigger. Omi stood unmoving and glared defiantly up at the taller man; the dark barrel of the gun gleamed in the moonlight slinking in through the crack between the shades. I heard Balines' sharp intake of breath as his wire fell to the ground, saw Abyssinian's grip on his katana tighten, felt Schuldig's hands fall away. Suddenly the darkness draining my vision away disappeared, and I saw the situation with an unnatural clarity. 

The muscles in Crawford's fingers twitched. 

Something broke inside me, and emotions came coursing through me. Schuldig's telepathy was no match for the power of the maelstrom within me, and his hold on my mind fell away like a leaf in a hurricane. I screamed Omi's name, reaching one hand out to him, but it was too late. The sound of Crawford's gun echoed through me, jarring yet more bottled feelings free. I watched Omi fall to the ground, blood coursing down his side, and gave myself over to fire within me.

Fear and rage tore through me like demons, and I gave them free reign. I felt my power stirring and reached for it, driving it out in pulsing waves. It drove everyone to their knees, Weiss and Schwarz alike, while I watched in a sort of fascinated daze. I had given up control, and I was not eager to win it back.

And so I watched, trembling with anger and terror and desperation, as some part of my subconscious took control of my telekinesis and loosed it on the three Schwarz assassins. The Weiss members remained on the floor, each watching me with varying degrees of suspicion and surprise. 

Schuldig's feeble attempts to block my powers proved futile as I crushed him against the wall with enough force to send a nearby shelf crashing to the floor, pinning him in the same position I had been in only moments before. I watched impassively from my isolated vantagepoint within my own mind as he gasped for breath, ignoring his pleas for me to release him.

Farfarello merely gazed up at me, his golden eye glowing wit the pain he enjoyed so much. The rational part of my mind realized that he would cause no more trouble, but the rage still surging through me would not be content with freeing him. It tightened its hold until his one visible eye rolled back in his head, then turned its attention elsewhere.

Tears had begun to blur my vision now, but from the dark corner my consciousness had retreated to, I could not feel them. It was as if I was watching a movie, the scenes playing out objectively before me. There was no place for sadness here, or fear. My anger had taken on a life of its own, and there was no longer any room for me. I didn't care, as long as Schwarz was punished.

Crawford lay sprawled on the floor, brows knitted in pain but eyes alive with hatred. His gun had skittered a few feet away, just out of his reach. My anger delighted in this and reached out for it, levitating the weapon in front of him. I watched, detached, as I aimed the gun at his heart and prepared to fire. This was the man who had shot my koi, the man who was responsible for the tempest of emotions roiling within me, and those emotions were not willing to dissipate without receiving reparations for the damage done. They sought blood.

The panic and the fury came rushing back as I was drawn out of my apathetic isolation. They threatened to overwhelm me, as if they were telling me to watch and take part, for this was revenge, and revenge was oh so sweet. I trembled slightly under their weight, my heart racing at their strength, but I fell under their sway easily enough. I beckoned the gun into my hand.

"Nagi!"

The sound halted me instantly, banishing the all the fear and anger and hate that had consumed me so quickly that it left me dizzy. I came crashing back down to reality like a roller coaster, drawn by the magnetic force of that single word. Omi was alive.

The gun dropped from my hand to clatter loudly on the floor. I turned around slowly, afraid that the illusion might shatter and I would find him dead. But Omi was alive, his shoulder bleeding heavily, but he was alive. Balines supported him with one hand; the other was tearing a piece of fabric off his shirt to press against Omi's wound. Omi repeated my name. My koi was alive.

__

My koi? I've never called him that before… My thoughts jumbled together as I took a step toward him and fell to the floor. All my emotions had drained away, leaving me in a vacuum from which I could not escape. My energy gone, I succumbed to the darkness that had returned to claim me, and I knew no more.

I drifted through the dark for a period of time, how long I'm not sure. Hours passed by in the blink of an eye, and the minutes dragged on for years. I dreamed of death and of nothing at all, thought of blood and flowers. Omi's face drifted in and out of the shadows like some fey creature, a harbinger of death and light.

Fingers on my face drew me back to awareness, igniting the memory of fear still lingering within me. I lashed out reflexively with my telekinesis as I sat up, shoving the hand away only to have it grab my shoulder and pull me closer to its owner.

"Nagi. Nagi! Calm down, it's me."

I blinked, clearing the last vestiges of the darkness from my mind. "Omi." He nodded slightly, letting his hand fall to the bed. We were in the basement of the Koneko; I was lying on the couch, Omi kneeling beside me on the floor. His shirt had been removed and his shoulder bandaged, but spots of blood still dotted his arm. I suddenly realized that the battle was over; Weiss had obviously won. But- "What happened? Where's Schwarz?" I started to rise, but Omi gently held me down.

"Everything's alright," Omi assured me, leaning sideways against the couch. "Aya and Youji took care of them until the police arrived –someone heard the gunshot and called them. Schuldig escaped, though." He frowned, looking up at me worriedly. "He won't come back for you, will he?"

I shook my head. "Iie. I don't think so. It'll be too much trouble for him." I reached out, trailing my fingers lightly across Omi's bare shoulder as I met his cobalt blue eyes. "Daijoubu?" I asked quietly. A tendril of guilt snaked up my spine, twining with my concern to tighten around my airway, making my breath come in short, quick gasps.

"Daijoubu," he replied with a smile. "I've had worse. Like when I was thrown into a wall by a certain telekinetic…"

Despite his grin, I found myself blushing and averted my eyes. Omi's finger under my chin forced me to look at him, and as soon as I lifted my head, he pressed his lips to mine. I started at the sudden contact, but soon melted into the kiss, savoring the feel of his mouth against mine and his sweet taste on my lips. Omi had suddenly become very precious to me, and the idea that I had come within inches of losing him terrified me.

A sound from the stairs sent both of us scrambling backwards, and this time it was Omi's turn to blush. Abyssinian stood across from us, his usual stoic facade replaced with a slight smirk. I couldn't tell whether he was angry or amused, but Omi found no animosity in his comrade's features, for he tossed a smile over his shoulder at the older man and leaned up to kiss me again.

A/N: Yeah, another one. Heh. This fic turned out a lot longer than I expected. I didn't expect the battle scene to be so long- I'm really not good at writing them. It wasn't too bad, was it? Review, please!!!


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